The King of the Angels
by afaithfulwriter890
Summary: Balthazar is a powerful king in the northern Middle-East. He is known to be a womanizing slacker who cares nothing for his kingdom that is currently at war and cannot keep a woman to save his life. Then he meets Rebekah, a young peasant girl, and everything changes. AU. Human!Balthazar. Human!Castiel. OC. More info inside.
1. Chapter 1

_The King of the Angels - Chapter 1_

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><p><strong>So I wrote this for my friend, Rebekah, because she is obsessed with Balthazar from Supernatural. So this is basically Supernatural fanfiction, but it is more . . . independent than other fanfiction I guess. A few SPN characters will pop up (Balthazar of course and Castiel and maybe Dean and Sam) but mostly, this is gonna be my own story. So . . . yeah. Let's see how this goes.<strong>

**A LITTLE BACKGROUND:**

**In the story of the three wise men, they were actually kings. One of those kings was named Balthazar. So . . . that is where this story begins. Before he was an angel, Balthazar was a very powerful, very wealthy king.**

**I do not own Supernatural.**

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><p><strong>I<strong>

**He sat on a golden throne,** his legs crossed and his hands resting on the arms of the chair. He didn't sit up straight with confidence or hold his head high with an air of superiority. Instead, he was slumped back against the throne. His shoulder sagged, his head cocked slightly to the side, and his entire body just giving the "fuck off, I don't care" vibe. His rather handsome face was twisted in a look of boredom that didn't suit him at all. He wanted to get out of this blasted throne room – that's all he wanted. Ever since he returned to his kingdom after visiting that Jesus kid, his royal advisors and the general council had demanded that he stay in the throne room all day and listen to the pleas of his people.

And to Balthazar, they was nothing worse than listening to a bunch of peasants complain about their problems.

He was a king – it should be the council's job to listen to these inarticulate bums. Although, to be honest, he wasn't very fond of this council business either. Casper – a fellow king and companion on his journey to see the newborn King – had installed one a few years ago. He swore by them and said that they helped get so much done. So, Balthazar gave his good friend the benefit of the doubt and was now beginning to hate him for it. The council seemed to think that because _he_ chose _them_, _they _could walk all over _him_. What kind of nerve did they have to think that they could order him around?

The first time they gave him an order – _an order_ – he demanded to have them all executed. Fortunately for the council members, however, Balthazar's good friend and advisor, Castiel, talked him out of it.

Castiel had been the only thing that was allowing Balthazar to keep whatever sanity he had left. You see, Balthazar wasn't really your traditional democratic, Ned Stark, honorable king. He was more of the . . . Robert Baratheon of kings. He was a partier. He liked food, music, lavish and expensive parties, and most of all, he liked whoring. He took pride in the fact that he once had twelve women at once. Castiel would flinch of shiver in disgust every time Balthazar spoke of it, and Balthazar would laugh. He knew some of the things that Castiel did with Dean, the stable boy.

As Balthazar sat on his throne, he was actually planning his next party. He was hoping to have it this weekend, that was if these stupid peasants would stop asking for money, or reparations, or something of the like. _Ugh, so needy,_ he thought. He wasn't even paying attention anymore.

At least until the next subject came in.

_She_ got his attention.

Balthazar had glanced lazily at her at first, but once he got a good look, he immediately straightened up. He sat in his throne, his back stiff and his head held high. For the first time in a very long time, he _looked_ like a regal king. He could feel Castiel's eyes on him as he did so and chose to ignore them. All he could do was just stare at the girl that had entered and try his best not to drool in her presence.

He had seen, fallen for, and fucked a lot of women in his lifetime. He'd been all over the Middle-East, all over Africa, all over Asia, and yet he had never seen a woman quite like her before. She was paler than most – a descendant of a northerner most likely. Her hair and eyes also reminded him of the north. Her hair was a light brown with an almost gold tint to it. And her eyes – Balthazar could have drowned in those eyes – they were the clearest, purest blue he'd ever seen. She was a fair-skinned, blue-eyed beauty, and it took all the self-control Balthazar had to remain on that throne.

"Please state your name," one of the council members commanded. Balthazar looked at them sharply; they sounded annoyed by her presence and that made him angry. _They should show some respect for such a beautiful young lady!_

The woman seemed unfazed. She looked at the ground as she spoke. Her fingers were interlocked and she seemed to be playing with them a little nervously. "Rebekah, sir," she said quietly. Balthazar let out a shuddering breath at the sound of her voice; she sounded like an angel.

"Do you have a surname?" the council member continued to question in monotone.

"No, sir," she answered.

"Rebekah," Balthazar suddenly intervened. These stupid, official proceedings were so useless. What good were they anyway? All they did was make things drag on at an ungodly pace.

The girl jumped at the sound of her king's voice. Her frightful blue eyes locked with his for just a moment before she looked down again. "Yes, my lord?"

Balthazar stood then. He started down the few steps toward the girl. She didn't move, but she didn't meet his eyes either. Her back straightened slightly, and her head rose so she was looking straight ahead. Balthazar tried to step into her line of sight, but she avoided him. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he was fed up with her not looking at him. He wanted to feel her eyes on him . . . Hell, he wanted to feel more than her _eyes._ "Look at me," he commanded. He did not shout, nor did he speak the words with malice or anger. But he was firm. He spoke like a king.

She obeyed him, looking directly into his eyes. There was a fire there that he had not seen before – a kind of defiance that made him shiver in anticipation. He couldn't help but wonder what he could to do her . . . and what she could to do him. "Why are you here?" he asked, taking another step toward her. They were less than a foot apart.

Rebekah took a deep breath, not looking away from his intense gaze. She wore a simple outfit – a light blue dress that was sleeveless. Balthazar thought it complemented her well; it showed off her arms and her chest very nicely. "I . . . I would like to work at the palace, my lord," she told him.

He had to admit, he was impressed. Most people would have broken eye contact by now, or would have looked down. But she still stood there, still staring at him. _Maybe she's just as entranced as I am,_ he thought with fleeting hope. When he heard her desire to work at the palace, his heart nearly danced with joy. "Oh?" he asked. His voice did not hint at his inner joy. "Why is that?"

"I . . . I need to send money back to my sisters at home," she explained. "My father recently passed away, my lord. My brother is off fighting in the war in the south, and I am the eldest at home. It is my duty to bring money home for my sisters."

Balthazar already knew he would accept her – he knew the moment she walked in that he would give her anything she wanted. Hell, if she wanted the moon, so be it. He'd find a way to give it to her. But he decided to play it off – make her beg. "And why should I accept you? What qualities do you have?"

She faltered for a moment. "Well, my lord . . ." She clearly had not anticipated having this conversation with him. "I am a woman, so I can do many womanly things. I can cook if you so desire. I can clean. I can . . . service you in other ways. Anything you ask of me, I can do."

Balthazar smirked._ Oh, I can show you what you can do,_ a darker side of him surfaced. He mentally shook himself. No. This was not how it was going to be. He was not going to treat her like another one of his whores - she deserved better than that. "Well . . ." he mused. He stroked his facial hair slowly as he pretended to consider her words.

"Balthazar," Castiel's voice butted in.

"_DO NOT INTERRUPT YOUR KING!_" Balthazar snarled, whipping around to face his friend. Castiel stood on the right side of the throne, his baby blue eyes wide in shock. Balthazar would apologize for such an outburst later, of course, but for right now he needed to display his dominance. He wanted to show Rebekah that _he_ was in charge.

When he turned back to the girl, she did not look frightened or worried. She just stood there, staring at him with a strange look on her face. For a moment, Balthazar faltered. She didn't seem intimidated; if anything, she looked confused. She said nothing in response to him, just gazed at him with a look of defiance in her eyes.

"You may remain at the castle," he told her stiffly. For some reason, he felt exposed. He felt as if she had just seen through that little outburst. He felt vulnerable. If she saw _that_, what else could she see?

"Thank you, my lord," she answered politely. She curtsied and bowed her head. Balthazar felt his lips twitch in a smile. She _was_ cute. Rebekah then met his eyes again, which almost struck the king breathless. "I am forever in your debt."

He smirked. _We'll see about that._ Balthazar turned to his servants and motioned for two female servants to come forward. "Take Rebekah to the servant quarters and have her change. When that is done, send her to my chambers." The servants nodded complacently, but Rebekah looked a little confused still. Balthazar's eyes narrowed slightly. "I'll speak with you later this evening."

Rebekah nodded then and walked off with the servants flanking her.

The king watched her go, his chest already aching as she walked away. As he went back to his throne, he could feel the eyes of Castiel, the council, and everyone assembled on him. He shifted a little awkwardly before looking to the two men that manned the door. "Well?" he said impatiently. "Send in the next one!"

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><p><strong>AN: Please leave a review and tell me what you think! Remember to follow and favorite if you want to see more! But seriously, though, tell me if you wanna see more.**


	2. Chapter 2

_The King of the Angels - Chapter 2_

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><p><strong>I was pleasantly surprised with the reviews and follows I got for this story! I am so happy you all enjoy it! <strong>

**The song that is featured in this chapter I put in at Rebekah's request - she loves this song pretty much more than anything and sings it to herself like . . . all the time. xD It's from "The Phantom of the Opera" and I will put a disclaimer down below for that. It's called "Think of Me" if you're interested in listening to it yourself.**

**I do not own Supernatural, nor do I own anything from The Phantom of the Opera.**

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><p><strong>II<strong>

Balthazar was impatient the rest of the day. He never got to apologize to Castiel for snapping at him earlier because he was in such a bad mood. All he could do was sit there and fidget and wait for the day to be over. But even when the business in the throne room had concluded, Balthazar still had to make an appearance at dinner and show what a marvelous host he was. Usually, he loved that sort of thing. He loved showing off his expensive food, he loved playing the role and being not just the king, but also the master of the house. But not now. He just wanted to go up to his chambers and see Rebekah again.

Dinner was long, painful, and ultimately uneventful. He just sat at the head of the table and played with his piece of veal. He was too distracted to eat. When dinner finally came to an end, he ordered his uneaten meal to be tossed out to the dogs – they were long overdue for a treat anyway. But he wasn't finished – a king is never truly _finished_ with anything he'd discovered. He had to see all of the guests off and bid them farewell. Once they'd left, Castiel tried to pull him aside, but Balthazar weaseled his way out of it. "I'm tired, Cassie," was his excuse. "Please, I was listening to those boorish fops all day. The king needs to sleep."

Castiel wore a look that indicated to Balthazar that his friend didn't believe a word of that. But, Castiel always had been a good friend and let Balthazar off despite the blatant lie. Even if Castiel had tried to keep him, Balthazar was the king.

Balthazar rushed to his chambers. They were in the left wing of the castle; in fact the entire left wing belonged to him and him alone. The large, lavish rooms were left for his private use. The right wing was the servant quarters, and then the main hall and throne room were in the center. The maester dwelt in the upper part of the castle, mostly in the towers where he immersed himself in his books.

It was difficult for Balthazar to not call out for his newest pet. He knew that she would be waiting in his personal chambers just like he had asked, but he still felt the urge to call to her. _Stop it, Balthie,_ he thought, shaking his head. _She's your servant, not your lover. Don't get over-excited._

Still, he couldn't help but jitter with a kind of anxious excitement as he entered his bedroom. It was large – a king's bedroom always is – with a large, magnificent bed adorned with a decorative quilt and various pillows. Of course, none of that was actually used when he slept. The only things that were on the bed when he used it were the sheets, a simple blanket, and a single pillow. _Perhaps there will be more than one pillow needed tonight,_ he thought darkly. The bed itself was actually on a slightly higher level than the rest of the room. In order to access the bed as well as the armoire and the small wash room that was attached to his chambers, you had to climb two marble steps. The armoire was in the back corner and was made out of a special wood from up north that shone a golden-brown color.

The other furniture in the room was simple and yet lavish all at once. Two marble pillars stood at even intervals in front of the steps that led up to the bed. On the side nearest to the door, there were a few plants and flowers. On the farther side was a small bookshelf with a cushioned chair next to it. Balthazar particularly liked that chair for reading – it kept him comfortable as opposed to the other hard wooden chairs in the room. In the corner directly across from the entrance of the bedroom was a small miniature bar full of all kinds of exotic wines and other liquor. And, last but most certainly not least, in the front of the room, right before the steps, was a long table where numerous books, plans, documents, and other political mumbo jumbo was laid out. Rebekah sat at one of the chairs, flipping through the pages of one of the books that had been on the table.

When Balthazar entered, she swiftly put the book back in its place and smoothed out her dress. He watched her with hungry, lustful eyes. She was trying to please him it seemed. The girl kept her head down and her eyes on the floor. Balthazar knew that the commoners were always taught that eye contact was considered a sign of disrespect. Balthazar agreed with that to some extent, just not when it came to pretty women that he planned to seduce.

"Rebekah," he greeted her. His voice sounded deeper than usual, as he had intended. It sounded sexier that way. Darker. More mysterious.

She still did not look at him. "My lord," she replied, her voice not faltering.

He smirked, but it soon fell. He wanted to see her eyes. "Look at me," he barked the command rather sharply.

Rebekah's eyes flew to his quicker than he had expected, and the king soon became lost in her pure blue gaze. "Rise," he ordered.

She did as she was told, not taking her eyes off him.

"Tell me, Rebekah," he said – no, _purred_ seems more accurate a description. "What are you willing to do to keep your job in my palace?"

The girl seemed understand what he was getting at. She batted her eyelashes slightly. Her small, pink lips curled upward in a seductive smile that set Balthazar's heart ablaze. "Anything my king asks of me."

Balthazar smirked. "That's a very good answer, darling."

Her cheeks flushed at the little nickname and she began to study the ground. _Now she grows shy? _Balthazar thought, somewhat amused. He approached her slowly, methodically. His movements were slow but languid and full of grace. He thought he saw her chest begin to rise and fall more quickly. He liked seeing her nervous; flustered. "Tell me, did it hurt when you fell from Heaven, child?"

Rebekah smirked ever-so-slightly. "No, my lord . . . But I did break a nail when I crawled out of hell."

Balthazar threw his head back and laughed. Oh, did he like this girl. "You have a good sense of humor . . . For a commoner."

Rebekah's eyes narrowed slightly at that, but she kept her tone light and happy. "I try my best, my lord."

He began to circle her, his eyes running up and down her slender figure without shame. "Do you have any talents, little angel?"

She looked down, seeming to grow sheepish again. "I . . . Well . . ."

"Oh, come now," Balthazar said huskily. He stood behind her now and leaned in so his mouth was right next to her ear, his lips almost grazing the flesh. "Don't be shy." At this she seemed to only grow more and more nervous. Balthazar could practically hear her heart pound and her pulse quicken. His hands, as if they had minds of their own, rested on her shoulders. They began to run down her arms until they rested on her waist.

Poor Rebekah now seemed completely incapable of speech. Balthazar had to smile; at least he knew that she was attracted to him . . . That she _wanted_ him. He removed his hands from her body and took a step back to give her room to breathe. Rebekah was practically gasping for air as she pulled away. She blinked a few times as if trying to regain her composure. Balthazar waited for her to recover from his ministrations very patiently. It amused him and stoked his ego all at once.

"What were you saying, angel?" he asked softly, his voice still dark and smooth like velvet.

She gulped nervously. "I, uh . . . I can sing, my lord."

Balthazar's smile widened. Oh, how he loved music! _A beautiful girl that's funny, witty, and can sing?! I must be on a lucky streak! _he thought. "That's marvelous!" He walked over to the small bar that was in the corner of the room and got himself a glass of wine. "Want one?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder at his guest.

Rebekah looked down and said, embarrassed, "Yes, please."

He smiled again. He'd been doing that a lot since she showed up. _She likes wine too. Damn._ Balthazar poured her a glass and handed it to her. She quietly thanked him before taking a tiny sip. He watched her for a moment before turning away; he didn't want her to think that he was some kind of creep even though he found it very difficult to take his eyes off her.

Balthazar walked over to a large, comfy, cushioned chair that he used for reading and plopped down in it. He crossed his legs and smiled at Rebekah as she continued to sip her wine. "When you're finished, I want you to sing for me," he said casually before drinking some of his own wine.

Rebekah quickly set her glass down on the table, her cheeks flushing again. "I'm sorry, my lord," she quickly tried to amend.

He snorted and gave her a dismissive wave. "I said when you were finished, angel."

She shrugged. "I can sing now, if you'd like, my lord . . . What would you like to hear?"

Balthazar shrugged. "Surprise me, little angel."

Rebekah took a deep breath and brought her hands together at her waist. He was kind of fascinated with how nervous she became then. She had been a little uneasy before, but now she seemed downright panicky. He wanted to reach out and touch her face and tell her she didn't have to be afraid of him. He didn't want her to be afraid of him. _I want her to trust me . . . I want her to know that she can sing – she can do whatever she likes and I will not be angry with her . . . How could I be angry with her?_

And then, without warning, Rebekah began to sing. Balthazar's mouth fell open at the first note. He couldn't believe his ears . . . She sounded like an angel.

"_Think of me, think of me fondly_

_When we've said goodbye_

_Remember me, once in a while_

_Please, promise me you'll try_

_And then you'll find that once again you long_

_To take your heart back and be free_

_If you ever find a moment_

_Spare a thought for me_

_We never said "our love was evergreen"_

_Or "as unchanging as the sea"_

_But if you can still remember,_

_Stop and think of me_

_Think of all the things_

_We've shared and seen_

_Don't think about the way_

_Things might have been_

_Think of me, think of me waking_

_Silent and resigned_

_Imagine me trying too hard_

_To put you from my mind_

_Recall all those days, look back on all those times_

_Think of the things we'll never do_

_There will never be a day_

_When I won't think of you_

_Flowers fade, the fruit of summer fade_

_They have their seasons, so do we_

_But please promise me that sometimes_

_You will think of me!_"

For the first time in what Balthazar believed to be his entire life, he was speechless. He could not believe it. He had called her "little angel" as a simple joke – a pet name – and now he believed that it was true. _She is an angel . . . She must be. She is too perfect and too wonderful to be anything else._

"Brava, brava, braviisima!" Balthazar exclaimed, clapping his hands together.

Rebekah blushed and looked down again. "Thank you, my lord. I tried my best."

"Your best? That was incredible!" Balthazar continued to shower her with praise. He stood from his seat and set his wine glass down on the long table. Before his mind could even comprehend what his body was doing he had wrapped his arms around her small form in a gentle hug. "That was truly amazing, little angel."

She smiled again. Her smile made him shudder; made him feel things he'd never felt before. Everything about this woman – this _peasant_ – drew him in. He knew now that he had never wanted _anyone_ more than he wanted her. He had to make her his. He had to claim her. Now.

He pulled away from their embrace, but just far enough so he could see her face. Rebekah was still in his arms, and she was still avoiding his eyes. "Look at me," he whispered to her. "I wish to look upon your face, little angel."

Slowly, as if she were intentionally trying to tease him, she raised her face so he could see her. Balthazar's breath hitched as he stared at her beautiful features. She was so breath-taking . . . So surreal. So perfect. He couldn't take it. Before Rebekah even had a chance to object, his lips had captured hers. To his pleasant surprise, she did not try to shove him away. She did not try to escape his display of affection. Instead, she melted into it. Her arms found their way around his neck. Their lips moved together as if they were one. His hands drifted down to his waist and proceeded to pull her closer until they were pressed up against one another.

Balthazar could hardly take this new closeness. Without warning, he spun them around so Rebekah's back was pressed up against one of the marble pillars. Balthazar shoved her against it so there was absolutely no space between them anymore. Their kiss became hungrier, deeper. Balthazar could feel himself becoming more and more aroused by the second. And, considering that they were so close to one another, Rebekah probably _felt it_ too. He needed her; he had never needed anyone as badly as he needed her.

His hands ran up to her shoulders and began to pull down the straps that held her dress. As he began to pull them down, he felt her stiffen. In fact, she froze all together. Balthazar immediately stopped and pulled away. He looked at her terrified, white face and realized he'd made a very big mistake. "Rebekah?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. His body was still pressed up against her and his hands were still resting on her shoulders, but he dared not do anything else.

She blinked and looked at him, startled. "M- my lord . . ." she mumbled, looking down.

Balthazar cocked his head to the side. "Is something wrong?"

"N- no, my lord," she said softly.

He frowned. "Do not lie to me, Rebekah," he told her sternly.

She flinched at his tone. "I just . . ."

"We don't have to," he said suddenly. His hand cupped her cheek and forced her to look at him again. "Just because I'm a king doesn't mean you have to . . . do that. I like my women warm and willing."

Her lips curled up in the beginnings of a smile, but it didn't finish. "I don't . . . I mean, I _want_ to, but I am not comfortable with it . . . I've never . . . I've never done that before and . . . I promised myself that I would save it for—"

Balthazar cut her off with a peck on the lips. "I understand, little angel," he said softly. He couldn't lie – he felt a little disappointed, but he wasn't going to force her into anything either. She deserved better than that. _If she wants to wait, then damn it all, I'll wait._

"Are you sure?" she asked quietly. "I don't want to upset you, my lord. If you . . . If you ask it of me, I will oblige."

He shook his head. "No!" he snapped with more venom than he had intended. A wave of self-loathing shot through him as she flinched. "I will not force you into _that_. It was . . . a request, not a command."

Rebekah nodded slowly. "Are you sure you are not angry with me, my lord?"

Balthazar let out a slightly annoyed sigh. "Yes," he told her. "And that is the honest truth."

She nodded and forced a smile.

Neither of them talked for a solid minute before Balthazar finally broke the awkward silence. "You . . . you do not have to stay here," he murmured. "You can go back to your own quarters." He couldn't even meet her eyes. He just stared at the table.

Her eyes widened slightly and her hands found his. Balthazar looked up at her, surprised by this sudden gesture. He met her gaze only to found her blue eyes pleading and full of agony. "Please, my lord," she begged quietly. "Do not send me away! I beg of you!"

He swore his heart cracked at her tortured expression. His hand cupped her face again this time more tenderly. "I am not sending you away," he assured her. "If you want to spend the night with me, you are more than welcome, little angel."

Rebekah's eyes found the floor again. "I . . . I would like to stay with you, but . . . I fear it would be highly improper. I just arrived . . . people may talk, my lord."

Balthazar sighed, but nodded. He would respect her wishes. "I shall see you tomorrow?"

She smiled; it was a weak one, but genuine nonetheless. "If my lord asks it of me, I will be here when you wake," she told him softly.

"I would like that," he chuckled. In fact, he loved the idea of waking up to _her. _

"Then I will be here, my lord."

"I am looking forward to it."

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><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading! Please leave a review and tell me what you think and if you want to see more! Remember that if you liked this story, be sure to follow and favorite the story for new updates!**


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